


Self-Indulgent Sic Fic

by RawrSharks



Series: Mingi-Centric Oneshots (the babying Mingi Agenda) [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Sick Fic, Vomiting, but fluff is saccharine sweet afterwards, it gets gross, sorry mingi baby :(, ye be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RawrSharks/pseuds/RawrSharks
Summary: Mingi is upset that his members have to take care of him when he catches a stomach bug. So he tries to help them out even if that might not be the best idea...-Back in my day, we'd call these whump! fics. Is that still relevant? But seriously, don't read if you can't handle the word *chunks*. The teen rating is purely for the grossness and the use of like three curse words. :P
Relationships: Song Mingi/Everyone
Series: Mingi-Centric Oneshots (the babying Mingi Agenda) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099766
Comments: 6
Kudos: 137





	Self-Indulgent Sic Fic

**Author's Note:**

> ayo, I actually started this back in like october before Mingi even had to go on break for his back pain :( :( :( but then the first time he cried was because he thought he let the rest of Ateez down :(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(:( D: wtf man who put these rain drops in my eyes :''''''( but then school started and now its midterms season and I am very stressed so this was very much a stress-relief fic so it is very self-indulgent on the fluff sorry not sorry I cope with stress by babying my token good boi sue me
> 
> also plz correct me if the suffixes are wrong, still learning about all that, might just stop using them entirely but then it doesn't feel right and eeeehhhhh idk still debating on it

15,000 feet in the air, the plane hit a rough patch of turbulence and jolted Song Mingi out of a fitful sleep. He sat up in a rush and looked around the plane blearily. The shaking of the plane made his heart race, thumping hard against his ribcage, but Yeosang still slept soundly against him, completely unbothered in his exhaustion. Across the aisle, Wooyoung and San also slept undisturbed as they sandwiched a very awake, very concentrated Jongho between them. He was playing a shitty, plane game on the screen in front of him that he was determined not to lose with his wide, serious eyes gobbling up the colors and shapes moving in all sorts of directions. Despite San clinging to his arm like a stuffed plushie, he was probably doing pretty alright.

Mingi couldn’t find Yunho in the darkness of the nighttime cabin which made him worry his bottom lip despite the fact that he knew his friend was sitting safely with one of their managers a few rows behind everyone. Once he spotted Seonghwa flipping through his book with a low-level reading light, he stopped the incessant biting. Seonghwa would scold him on the habit saying was in polite in public and unhealthy. Next to Seonghwa-hyung sat their tactful leader Hongjoong slumped over and definitely in another one of his “meditative” states. Mingi strained his hearing to catch him snoring even though the pair sat several rows ahead.

Instead, Mingi found himself coughing hard into his elbow. The air-conditioning blasted relentlessly in the cabin and chilled everything to the temperature of a dead, winter night. Lying under its force and coldness felt like he was breathing down frozen fingers that scratched down the back of his throat. He kept coughing even as he tried to soothe the irritation with a sip from his water bottle.

More turbulence hit; the plane bucking and threatening to throw Mingi from his seat. He looked around again for Yunho, but he was startled to find Yeosang’s sleep-puffy eyes blinking up at him. Mingi mumbled an apology with his voice sounding not quite right from all the coughing and settled back into his seat. Yeosang dismissed the disturbance with a shake of his head before setting it down heavily on Mingi’s shoulder once again.

“You should sleep too, though.” He said. “You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“I’ll try.” And Mingi did try, but he could not ignore the shaking of the plane and the way his stomach rolled from side to side with it. Or the stewardess that kept hitting his tall, awkward knees when he slumped too far down to get comfortable. The sting from each strike of the cart remained for far longer than it should. His body stayed as still as it could in his chair, but his mind refused to settle with it, flitting between the slow rythym of Yeosang’s breathing, the breakneck pace of their last tour in America, the lyric verses he still had to turn in to Eden for their next, next comeback, the absence of Yunho, their unknown schedule for once they landed back in Seoul, the performance review that awaited them, Hongjoong’s potential snoring, the unappetizing in-flight dinner, and trying to clear his throat to keep him from wheezing. His brain was moving too fast, thinking about anything started to give him a headache.

Slowly, he managed to scrape out small pockets of sleep in the last hours of the flight. 10 minutes here dozing, 30 minutes there stepping through a dream, a dismal 15 minute completely unconscious microsleep right before the plane was bouncing on the tarmac causing both his heart and his stomach to clench up tight like a pair of fists inside him. Grumbling as they exited the plane and collected their bags, he was ready to swing too.

Ateez arrived in their home country under the cover of darkness, closer to 1am than not because apparently that was the only good time KQ could book their flight. He knew he shouldn’t complain since he didn’t have to plan a whole idol group’s schedule every week as well as run a company, but at the moment he also wasn’t feeling too appreciative of the situation. They piled into two cars to head back to the dorms, but Mingi refused to sleep on the ride over like his bandmates. If he was jostled awake one more time before achieving actual sleep, he might pull his hair out. Instead he stared out the window with resignation, following the passing street lights and catching himself whenever his eyes drooped closed.

From the moment he walked through the front door, it was exactly three minutes until he collapsed into bed. He didn’t bother with food, his teeth, or a face wash, just changed clothes and pulled the cover all the way to his chin. He still felt cold, slightly shivering even under all the layers. If he broke out with acne again, their stylist-noona will lecture him about proper skin care again, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck about any of that as his head finally laid out on his soft pillow. Seonghwa reminded him of the consequences of his actions, but he just rolled over, whining about the lights.

“You’ll feel better in the morning after some good sleep.”

He felt Seonghwa rub his back in reassuring circles for a minute before the lights switched off and he heard the door finally click closed. He asleep, basically passed out, not five deep breaths later. For a few glorious hours, he felt nothing. Then it was hot. And sticky. And for some reason that hurt. For a while, he continued to lay in bed, drifting half-conscious, wondering if he was awake at all. But he felt it.

Like his mouth could suddenly start to sweat, and his stomach was lined with a burning lead that coiled and tightened. When he got up, he managed three stumbling steps out of his room before he was sprinting to the bathroom. He threw San out, who was screaming at him and slammed the door. For only five feet, the toilet seemed impossibly out of reach, and an awful taste filled his mouth. The moment he flipped the seat up, he was falling to his knees and puking into the pristine bowl. Banging onto the floor hurt, but it barely registered as his throat stung with vile acid and his stomach tried to claw out of his body.

“Mingi, what the fuck?!” Sounded from outside the door. Then a gap of silence filled only by his wet heaving. A quiet, worried “Oh, oh, oh.” Followed shortly thereafter, and he could hear San’s footsteps down the hall, but Mingi couldn’t concentrate on that right now.

He could feel chunks force themselves out of him, spilling brown and yellow and even slightly pinkish into a horribly-smelling sludge below. He tried to contain the mess, but his body lurched as it felt like he was punched in the gut over and over. Spots, flecks of it landed along the rim and the floor as hot tears squeezed out to burn down his face. He was making such a mess and it hurt so much as why was it so cold here on the tile floor when it was blazing in his bed.  
The door opened with a burst, and he didn’t want it to, but he could do nothing but dread at who would come in.

“Mingi, Mingi, Mingi.” A frantic voice came from somewhere above him. It was hard to tell with the ringing in his ears and he didn’t want to lift his head up to face them. He must have looked like a nightmare and he couldn’t bear it if he got vomit on his shirt without realizing it. It wasn’t until he felt Hongjoong’s tiny hands slide across his shoulders that he realized that he was shivering. No, he was shaking. Hard. He was gripping onto the toilet for his dear life. “You’re okay, you’re okay. What’s wrong?”

That didn’t even make sense. He was clearly not okay. He barked as much, voice small and rough.

“Shh, please.” He choked out, his pleading cut off by another round of puking. He hadn’t even eaten that much, had no desire to for hours once the slightly uncomfortable nausea had settled on the flight over. Staring past his tears, he saw San and Yunho in the doorway. Seonghwa was right next to Hongjoong above him, a hand reaching out to caress his hair back from his sweaty forehead. Groaning, Mingi dropped his head into his arms at the top of the bowl. Even though the horrid smell of puke stuffed up his nose, it was better than looking any of them in the face when he’s like this.

“Go away.” His while body shuddered as he dry-heaved. “Please.” He sounded pathetic and broken even to his own burning ears, but he was begging and did not want to have to ask again.

“Hey, c’mon. Don’t act like this.” Hongjoong said firmly, but Mingi could hear Seonghwa’s muffled steps and the door was shut. The quiet of the bathroom only made his vomiting sounds sickeningly louder. For as long as he heaved, Hongjoong rubbed his back, but he could hardly notice as his body seized and slumped.

“Hurts…” He sobbed. Just a little, he couldn’t help it.

“I know.” Hongjoong murmured. He stepped away to wet a hand towel. It felt so cool and good against his neck even as his fingers there white-knuckled claws gripping for the flusher.

“Make it stop.” It was a childish request, but he’d take anything to make this his last choked splutter of stomach acid and bile.

“You’re going to have to ride it out baby.”

He sobbed again. Just a little. Eventually, the door opened, and Seonghwa gave him a glass of water.

“Rinse. It’ll help.” So he did, spitting out a bit of the sour taste that stained every corner of his mouth. He pressed the rest against his burning forehead. Not particularly caring of the mess, Seonghwa gripped his chin and turned his face up towards them. “Ahhh.”

He stuck a thermometer under Mingi’s tongue then pressed a kiss into his hair. He had a temperature of 102°. He knew what that meant, but he still looked up to his hyungs with sunken eyes, waiting for their direction. He was too tired to try anything else.

“I need to let Mr. Kim-nim know.” Hongjoong said frowning at the thermometer. As he pulled out his phone, Seonghwa clicked his tongue.

“He needs to sleep.”

“Did he throw up on his bunk?”

“No. Let’s put Jongho on the couch in case if it’s still viral.”

“Might as well bring him in here to help car—"

“I can walk.” Mingi tugged at Hongjoong’s shirt whining, even though just lifting his arm was tiring. They both turned to look him over, and he wished he could just sink into the floor to get away from their doubtful stares. He broke eye-contact as he wiped at the dirtied rim of the toilet with a wad of wiping paper. His hyungs nodded to each other.

“Just in case.”

“Yep.”

Seonghwa left again, and Mingi slumped against the cool glass of the shower door. It felt nice enough to distract him from the rolling feeling in his gut.  
Hongjoong crouched down in front of him. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful.” The word was small, shivering in the air by itself, but it was impossible to speak any louder. Hongjoong’s pretty mouth was set in a deep frown right in front of him, and he didn’t like that. He wanted to see him smile, but as he curled up on the bathroom floor he didn’t know what he could do to make his boyfriend happy again. He didn’t know when he decided to lay down, but it felt even nicer with the tiles even cooler against his cheek.

“Do you feel like vomiting again? It’s okay if you have to, baby. It’ll make you feel better if you just let it all out.”

The question made him tired. “I don’t know... Not now maybe.”

“We’ll put a trash can by your bed. You can lay down there.”

“Okay.”

Hongjoong helped him up, but it was more of Hongjoong pulling him to his feet than him actually standing. It did not feel good to stand. It was as if he was standing on the bobbing deck of a ship instead of the steady, reliable floor. His whole body pitched from side to side. Luckily Jongho was already there, though Mingi hadn’t heard the door open.

“Want me to carry you?”

“No…” Mingi said, even as he grabbed Jongho’s shoulders to anchor himself.

“Are you sure?” Hongjoong was right by his side, lightly gripping his elbow in case his knees decided to just give out. And Seonghwa stood half-in, half-out of the doorway, but their bathroom was too small for this many grown men pushing around inside. It made Mingi feel queasy again. He wanted to lay down.

“No.” He repeated. He slid his hand down Jongho’s arm to grab for his own. “Just this.” Jongho gripped his hand tightly as he led them down the hall. Mingi trailed behind him, but each step was slow. Bright morning light bathed the hallway, and it was hard to look at. He was sure that his hand was clammy and unpleasant, but Jongho didn’t even squirm once in his grasp. He didn’t even let go as Mingi folded himself back into bed. He stood quietly over him and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the broad expanse of his hand. That made Mingi feel a bit better.

Seonghwa patted the covers all the way up to his chin. “Not too hot?”

“No.” Mingi buried deeper into the blanket, savoring the warmth that threatened to burn him up not 30 minutes ago. It was still too bright, his headache returning as the light continued to pulse against his eyelids, trying to get inside.

“Trash can’s right here.” He heard metal clank against the floor. “And some water. Please remember to drink it.” Glass clinked. He was already fading away, his hand dead weight in Jongho’s grip. The man didn’t let go though, and Mingi fell asleep still tethered to his anchor to the world.

//

He woke up alone. The bedroom was dark, and he shuddered. Rolling over, he sent up a praise of thanks that he found the trash can immediately. Then he heard himself puking more than felt it. Head hanging down, he just let it happen, too tired to fight the pain of it. Someone came into the room and placed their hand against the back of his neck.

“Easy.” It was their manager Chulwoo Mingi was not going to cry in front of him. Absolutely not. This time it was quick, and Mingi buried himself into his pillow once again. Somehow, he was still exhausted despite sleeping however many hours. He looked around for a clock or his phone to see how long it has been since he fell asleep, but his manager held out a pair of pills instead.

“Can you take these for me?” The pills looked like the liquid kind and were absolutely huge for something to settle his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do right now was swallow something. He looked up pleadingly, but Chulwoo was having none of it. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Mingi was tired of hearing that, but he had no room to argue with his manager. He took the pills from him, but then Chulwoo also gave him a sleeve of dry crackers.

“It helps if you have something in your stomach when you take them.”

Mingi looked pointedly at the trash can, and the pleading eyes were back.

“I’ll throw up again if I try to eat that. I know it.”

“Probably. But hopefully the medicine will be digested by the time the urge hits you. Then hopefully, it won’t be much longer than that.” Chulwoo dragged over a chair to sit by his bed. Then he placed a couple of magazines, Mingi’s phone, a pair of headphones, an iPad, and a few books at the end of his bed by his feet. He wanted a pair of fuzzy socks. They felt frozen somehow.

“Also, we brought in a doctor. You slept right through it which he found concerning, but I think that was more from the jetlag and uncomfortable flight than anything else. But he did say that this is probably a nasty stomach bug picked up from who knows where with all the places we dragged you guys to.” He leveled a stare at Mingi and placed a comforting hand on his leg before launching the final blow. “And he ordered three days of bed rest for you. At least.”

Mingi spluttered and tried to sit up to dramatically object. But moving made his head pound so he settled for a whiny tone. “But don’t we have promotions to do? That’s too long!”

“We just did a tour and promotions in America.”

“But there’s always more…” He tried not to sound accusatory since their managers didn’t contribute at all to the group’s scheduling and it their own drive to stay busy than anything else. Their managers were being tugged along right there with them at the same breakneck pace as they shuffled them from place to place and made sure that the members didn’t collapse or die. But Chulwoo just smiled at him and patted his leg once more.

“You’re a tough, kid. You’ll be back at it in no time, Mingi-ah, so just rest for now and focus on recovering.”

He didn’t want to be any more difficult, so he settled back, nodding along. His eyelids felt heavy, but he didn’t want to sleep anymore. Not yet, anyway. He started to work on a cracker. It felt and tasted like grit in his mouth. Swallowing was torture, and getting the pills down was even worse. He took deep breaths to will his stomach to calm down. He needed this to work.

Chulwoo sat by his side, reading one of the books. “Should I get you anything else? Cool towel? Water?”

Mingi looked over him curiously, something dawning on him. His shoulders slumped.

“Chulwoo-nim, wasn’t today… your day off? Since we just came back from the States?”

His manager didn’t even look up from his book and just squeezed his leg. “I’m only here for the few hours the rest of the group is gone. We didn’t want to leave you alone, but there are still evaluations to be done. They’ll be back soon, and I’ll get out of your hair.” Chulwoo said as he flipped the page.

Guilt pressed Mingi into the bed, trapping him under a heavy blanket that gave him no warmth at all. A precious day off was to be celebrated, yet instead it was being squandered by sitting in this dim, window-less room with him. Every hour passed in this bed was an hour wasted, hour after hour spent dragging the whole company down and denying them the small pleasures they had left to cherish. Mingi fiddled with his headphones not quite ready to put them on yet.

He had to do something to make this better. He felt like shit, sure, but the guilt was eating him up more than the actual virus in his body. He had to make it up to Hongjoong and Seonghwa and San for taking up the bathroom and Yunho for yelling at him and Chulwoo and everyone for being deadweight when they had all looked forward to taking it easy for once. He won’t make any more work for them than necessary. He can take care of it himself.

Jetlag was stronger than any man; Mingi laid down with his headphones on and pretended to sleep. Chulwoo was just an ordinary man, and soon enough the toll of travel left him limp in his chair, book forgotten on the floor. Mingi waited until he heard his manager’s loud snoring before he finally slipped from his bed onto his shaky legs. This was going to be rough and will take time, but Chulwoo said that the group won’t be back for the next few hours. Mingi steadied himself with a few breaths and a sip of water for his pounding head.

Seonghwa will definitely want to wash his sheets once they got back, and there was no way in hell he was going to make his boyfriend do more laundry than he already did. So, laundry, first. And if he was going to wash his sheets, he might as well wash everyone else’s, and it can be a nice little surprise for his boys when they get home. Carefully, he pulled back his bed sheets without waking up Chulwoo, but it was considerably harder to het Jongho’s from the top bunk. His body buckled with each step up the ladder. And those two crackers in his stomach got a little uneasy as he made his way back down. Stuffing all the sheets under one arm, he decided to take the trash can with him as he stumbled out of his bedroom. No need to mess up the bathroom again or have to dash for the kitchen sink.

Slowly, he went into each room and stripped the beds, certain to be mindful of any laptops or watches or headphones that could have been hiding amongst the sheets. All of them would fit into one load, but if he timed it right he can get everything at least through the dryer before the boys came home. He has to take a breather before he actually starts the first wash, because the smell of the detergent and its chemicals make him cough and start to feel queasy. Once the machine started up and was running, he went into the kitchen to be able to mark the time as the trash can kept bumping against his legs as he walked.

Shock played over his face when he spots the mountain of dishes stacked in the sink. He bit his lip once he realized that with all the commotion he caused this morning, San must not have had time to clean up after breakfast. Though his knees had already started to feel like jello and his bed sounded like paradise to his aching back even without the sheets, he rolled up his sleeves.

The warm water felt good running over his sweaty hands, and he was careful not to cough on any of the cleaned plates or utensils as he stacked them in the drying rack. He was able to get through most of it, before he felt queasy again. He moved into the hallway before he kneeled over his can and vomited up the two itty bitty crackers and water from before. It wasn’t a lot, and the actual puking didn’t take long, but he panted through the whole ordeal. All the dry heaving took the wind out of him, and the old puke smell of the trash can certainly didn’t help. But there wasn’t much else he could do but shiver through it.

As he collected himself off the floor and wiped the sweat off his brow with a shaking hand, all he wanted was to crawl back to his room, change into one of Jongho’s sweatshirts, and not move for the rest of the day. His determined energy from before was flagging, replaced by an ever-growing nausea; he was trapped in the uncertain feeling of “Am I going to puke again, or do I need another cracker to settle things down?” But as he stood there, clinging to the wall and purposefully avoiding his gaze from any of the group photos of all his boyfriends together, smiling and happy, the buzzer for the washing machine went off.

He steeled himself to at least finish one chore for his loves. He could handle one more task for them. Slowly, he made it to the washing machine and managed to swap out the loads, fitting the rest of the sheets into the washer and starting up the dryer as well. So far, so good. The accomplishment gave him confidence and when he passed through the living room to head back to bed, he spotted the vacuum cleaner standing up near the TV still plugged into the wall from whoever didn’t finish this morning.

Mingi stared at as he debated for a moment. He was fine, in fact he was already feeling better from his mini-vomit in the hallway. Just one more thing… His boyfriends would be so happy to see that they can just relax and recover themselves from the tour once they come home. He turned on the vacuum and ignored the cooked-noodle feeling of his arms as he pushed it back and forth. He pushed his way across the room, picking up any crumbs or hair balls he could find. The loud, sucking sound from the machine concerned him that he might wake up Chulwoo, but he knew that the man was a heavy sleeper and he hadn’t woken up yet with the washing machine or the dishes.

He hadn’t even been vacuuming for even five minutes before he turned it off and place his hands on his knees to breath and concentrate on soothing the rolling of his gut. His mouth felt sweaty again, but this was ridiculous. He had nothing left to puke up, and hopefully the doctor’s medicine will kick in soon. He groaned as the queasiness became more intense, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness of the afternoon sun that suddenly had become too much. Blindly, he felt around for his can when he heard someone shuffling behind him.

“What the fuck?”

Mingi whipped around startled as he heard Yunho’s angry tone. All seven of his boyfriends stood behind him with their faces gaping in shock either at him with the vacuum at his feet or at Yunho who was seething to the point of sucking his breath through his teeth. Huh. He didn’t even hear the door open.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yunho repeated. He took a step towards Mingi who shrank back. He wasn’t yelling; Yunho never yelled when he was angry because he never had to. Just seeing his boyfriend’s face without any trace of his usual smile made Mingi panic. He had known that his loves wouldn’t be happy to see him struggling out of bed so soon, but they weren’t supposed to be here right now. Were had the time gone?

“I’m helping.” Mingi finally answered, standing up straight with only a small, pained grimace. But that was enough for Yunho. He was across the room in a second, and then Mingi was swept off his feet into Yunho’s strong hold. He yelped in surprise, hands scrambling to hold onto Yunho’s shoulders despite being cradled firmly in his arms. For the first time in the last 24 hours, his stomach was shocked into calmness as he clung for dear life. Yunho quickly carried him down the hall to his bedroom, but before he could enter, Chulwoo rushed out with his eyes still puffy from his nap. The manager was frantically searching around, presumably for Mingi, but Yunho didn’t bother to address him. He just shoved past into the room and kicked the door shut behind them.

It was dim and quiet in his bedroom with just the two of them lit by a single bedside lamp. They could hear Chulwoo frantically apologizing to Hongjoong behind the door and Hongjoong reassuring their manager in return along with the rest of the members, There was a lot of rustling going on out in the hall, but the team knew better then to intrude when Yunho had made it clear that he wanted to talk with Mingi in private. Yunho didn’t seem to care about any of that. Still clutching Mingi tight, he marched over to Mingi’s stripped bed and gently set him down.

“Where are your sheets?” He asked as he stood over Mingi with his arms crossed. His gaze flicked to the upper bunk and his frown deepened. “And Jongho’s?”

Mingi crossed his legs under him and hung his head. His fingers were too nervous as they went picking at his sleeves.

“I was… doing some laundry.”

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed. Didn’t Chulwoo-nim tell you about the doctor that came here?”

Heavy like lead, dread sank through his nausea to settle in his gut. He didn’t want Chulwoo to get in trouble when he did nothing wrong. Goddammit, he was supposed to be helping, but he was only causing more trouble for those he cared for the most. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he refused to let them seep into his voice. He couldn’t be such a crybaby when he was the one at fault.

“He did tell me. But I wanted to surprise you guys with something nice… to repay—”

“You’re sick.”

“And at the worst time! Everyone is already so tired and trying to push through—”

“You can’t control when you get a stomach virus.”

“But I can control how I let it affect me. I don’t have to let it hold me or us back! I can still do my part for you guys.”

“Your part?” Yunho sighed with his hand tangling in his hair out of frustration and confusion. “What are you talking about, Mingi? You don’t have a part that you need to play.”

Mingi’s head finally snapped up to look at his boyfriend, tears overflowing and spilling down his face.

“B-but I need to have a part, need to be a part of the team. If-if I’m not a part of the team and helping out, then I’m a burden to you guys.” Mingi started to hiccup, breath becoming harsh pants as he sobbed. The cold fear, the dark loneliness from when he woke up this morning took over him. It wrapped its fingers around his heart and squeezed like a hurt that would keep him up at night for years. The mad rush of tears blurred his vision until he couldn’t see. He’d finally said it, the panic he’d felt building all day, now hanging in the air lick such harsh words meant to cut him.

Crying in front of Yunho, his first love, made him feel worse and he started to break down so hard that his headache returned. It hurt to cry so hard, but he couldn’t control himself enough to stop. He could imagine the disappointment on Yunho’s face, having to see him be such an utter mess and he burned with shame. But he was not met with that fear disappointment. Instead, he felt gentle hands cup his cheeks and large thumbs swipe through the stream of tears, before those hands slide into his hair and pull him into a warm chest.

“Mingi, Mingi, Mingi.” Yunho cooed at him sadly, his own face wet from seeing his love so distraught. “Mingi baby, Mingi darling, my sweet, lovely Mingi. You have never been and you will never be a burden to me.”

Yunho whispered softly to him, and he curled his whole body around his boyfriend to envelope him in a comforting warmth. Mingi clutched the back of his shirt to draw Yunho closer in a tight embrace. His face was smushed into Yunho’s broad chest, and his shirt was now wet and snotty as Mingi continued to cry, too overwhelmed to stop.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeated until Yunho shushed him, caressing his fingers through his messy, bedhead hair and kissing the top of his head for every unnecessary apology. Mingi couldn’t ignore or deny the love Yunho poured into him, and slowly, as his tears subsided and dried, he accepted his love’s reassurances and declarations. The loneliness and guilt were all in his own head. His boyfriends would never think that way about him; they only loved him and wanted to take care of him until he recovered back to be their cutie, lovely, baby Mingi.

He needed to feel them all now. He needed to see their faces and the love in their eyes as he apologized for worrying them so. But as his tears died down and the adrenaline faded, the nausea flooded back. Mingi stiffened, and pulled away from Yunho’s embrace.

“The can…”

Yunho’s eyes widened and he rushed out to retrieve the forgotten trash can in the living room, pushing past the small crowd of concerned lovers hovering right outside the door. He did not make it back in time.

//

A few more wobbly tears, a mop, and an assisted shower later, Mingi sat on the couch swaddled in blankets, not wearing a single article of clothing that actually belonged to him, and surrounded by his boys. Essentially, he was in heaven. Once he had come out clean and relatively less sick, each of his boyfriends had smothered him with heartfelt words, kisses and ‘I love you’s. Hongjoong did have to reprimand him a bit for scaring Chulwoo and purposefully going against doctor’s orders, but he kept his tone gentle if also firm and petted down Mingi’s spine as he laid his head in his lap through the whole lecture.

Now they were all cuddling and watching ‘Ponyo’ at Mingi’s request while Wooyoung and San made broth soup for dinner. When it was ready, they set down a place mat right on the coffee table, so everyone could eat in the living room without having to make Mingi leave his little nest.

“Bon Appetite.” Head chef Wooyoung said, blowing a kiss into the air as San passed around bowls. Mingi didn’t get one, but Wooyoung dragged over a footrest so he could sit front of Mingi with a full bowl in hand. There was a mischievous glint in Wooyoung’s eye as he raised a spoonful to blow on. “Ah!” He brought the spoon to Mingi’s mouth, who blushed at the prospect.

“I’m not doing that.” He whined, and he attempted to reach for the spoon only for Wooyoung to pull it away as he struggled to free his arms from the depths of the blankets. Wooyoung grinned at his stumbling cuteness.

“You don’t get a choice after that stunt you pulled.” He sing-songed, holding the spoon up again. Mingi eyed the full bowl of soup in his hands; still petulant and not about to give in.

“But I can’t eat that much. I still feel weird.”

San plopped down on the back of the couch behind him and stroked down his hair and neck only to watch Mingi’s blush deepen and spread.

“C’mon.” San’s fingers started to seek and message out any kinks building in his neck. “You promised to stop being such a fussy baby. Stop fighting.”

Mingi pouted because there wasn’t much he could do defend himself after that. San rewarded him with a kiss to the crown of his head when he finally opened his mouth to accept the soup from Wooyoung. His eyes sparkled at the delicious taste of the broth lighting up his tongue and warming him up from the inside out. As expected from their resident chef, the soup was the only thing to actually make Mingi hungry in the last couple of days. It seemed to settle well in his stomach, so he happily sipped a few more spoonfuls until he wanted to wait and ensure that his stomach was fine.

Mingi hummed a nameless tune while he snuggled deeper into the cuddle puddle. Several arms tightened around him, and once again Yeosang’s head was a comfortable weight against his shoulder. It was a well-kept secret that when tired enough, Yeosang became one of the best cuddle bugs and Mingi enjoyed the comfort and honor dearly. All of his dark feelings had been utterly loved out of his body and mind and soon enough he was drifting off into a sleepy haze. He couldn’t remember why had been so scared before; how could he ever forget how well they take care of him? Smiling softly, Mingi let himself go and sank into the enveloping comfort of all of their love.

**Author's Note:**

> hi still crying scuse me T^T but anyway, i kind of wanted to make this a whole thing with a sweet moment with each of the members as Mingi recovers but that is way too much work for a comfort-write fluff fic especially when I need to update my other long form work before I start another big project so the next time I get stressed I'll probably add on sole member chapters as we go
> 
> sorry that I flooded all the character tags with this, its super hard to have a include fucking 8 people in relationship moments and I'm still working on it as well as branching out more and making their interconnected relationships outside of Mingi stronger but oh well I TRIEEEEDDD, hopefully to be fixed as I add on more
> 
> Kudos <3 Comments <3 keep artists motivated ~ plz we are sensitive souls ~ <3 have good day <3


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